


And I’ve Been Silent For Too Long

by stealthestars



Series: I Was Scared of a Heart I Couldn't Silence [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aggressive Eye Contact, Angst with a Happy Ending, Betrayal, Bets, Brief Ushijima/Oikawa, Canon Divergence, Chocolatier Tendou Satori, Cuddling, Flirting, Fluff and Angst, Getting Back Together, Gratuitous descriptions of them staring longingly into one another's eyes, Love Confessions, M/M, Mentions of sexual activity but nothing explicit, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Post-Time Skip, Professional Volleyball Player Ushijima Wakatoshi, Reconnections, intense hand holding, olympics 2021, showering together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:27:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27438082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stealthestars/pseuds/stealthestars
Summary: “You’re in a car with a beautiful boy,and you’re trying not to tell him that you love him,and you’re trying to choke down the feeling (and you’re t r e m b l i n g)but he reaches over and he touches you; like a prayer for which no words existand you feel your heart taking root in your body - like you’ve discovered somethingyou didn’t even have a name for.”Ushijima sends an invitation and Tendou issues a challenge.
Relationships: Tendou Satori/Ushijima Wakatoshi
Series: I Was Scared of a Heart I Couldn't Silence [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2049570
Comments: 28
Kudos: 233





	And I’ve Been Silent For Too Long

**Author's Note:**

> Ngl this is entirely self indulgent and written largely as a way to cope with election stress this week. I feel like ushiten coming together during the Olympics/a future volleyball event is a semi popular angst trope but this idea wouldn't leave me alone, and I spent the last couple days putting it into words so I didn't have to think about the electoral college for a minute. (But hey y'all, we did it! We won!) 
> 
> Title taken from "Silence" by Marshmello, Khalid. Summary borrowed from "Crush" by Richard Siken.

Tendou Satori is known by many names. 

“Creepy” and “Freak” by his middle school teammates. 

“Guess Monster” by his high school rivals. 

“Tendou” or “Tendou-kun” by his friends.

Friends, what a concept. Tendou never thought he’d have any of those and yet, somehow? He manages to keep most of them all through high school. If only 10 year old Tendou could see himself now. 

Still, there’s another name that belongs to him, and there’s only one person in the whole wide world that’s allowed to use it. 

“Satori,” Ushijima would say when Tendou was becoming just a little too rambunctious during practice. 

“Satori,” rolling off his tongue when they were alone together in Tendou’s room, watching tv or reading the latest Jump together while Tendou leaned against him like a dog, silently begging for attention. 

“Satori,” he had called him that chilly spring day before confessing that he liked him.

“Satori,” Ushijima whispered sweetly in his ear while they lay curled together in Ushijima’s massive bed, sweat slick on heated skin. 

Tendou is foolish enough to believe he can keep it. Realistically he knows he should have predicted something like this. Their lives are set on different paths and there’s only one single, utterly inevitable conclusion.

Still, when he catches Wakatoshi kissing Oikawa behind the gymnasium after their graduation ceremony has concluded, he remains shattered all the same. 

His heart and mind in disarray and not knowing who he can turn to, Tendou does the only thing that feels safe.

He disappears. 

He gets as far away from Ushijima Wakatoshi and his broken promises as humanly possible without ever looking back. 

Tendou even changes his email and his phone number, determined to start a new life that hasn’t been touched by the former ace. He gets accepted to a culinary school in France and builds a career for himself in confectionaries. 

When he’s 25 he opens his own shop and it’s the proudest he’s ever felt in himself. He did this, for himself and by himself, without anyone else to help him or share the spotlight with. He thinks finally, this will be enough to make him happy.

And yet, as he stares down at the plain manilla envelope in his hands that bears a Kodaira, Tokyo return address, the now 27 year old Tendou Satori wonders if maybe Paris wasn’t far enough after all. 

“Cami-chaaaan,” he murmurs, gingerly turning the package over as if he expects it to bite him. “What is this?”

His assistant Camille stares up at him from the display she’d been arranging, blinking large blue eyes at him from behind her round glasses.

“It was in our mailbox this morning, boss. Looks important, whatever it is, ‘cause they sent it by overnight,” she explains with a shrug before returning to the task at hand. 

Tendou grimaces and retreats to his office in the back of the shop, still carrying the package like it’s a ticking bomb about to go off. He wonders which of his friends finally ratted him out after all these years.

It was probably Goshiki. The young ace had always struggled with saying no when it came to Ushijima. 

Busy plotting his revenge on his former teammate, Tendou rips open the package perhaps with a little more force than is strictly necessary and ends up spilling the contents on his desk in a small heap. 

Brows furrowing, he carefully picks up the plain red lanyard and studies it. His heart slams unhelpfully in his throat, making it difficult for him to focus. 

TOKYO 2021 is emblazoned in bold block letters on the front of the plastic badge dangling at the end of the lanyard. 

JAPAN, VOLLEYBALL 

Tendou tosses it away like it suddenly grew eight ugly, hairy legs and it skitters across his desk, harmless and otherwise unassuming. 

Trembling fingers pick through the remainder of the pile but the Guess Monster is suddenly horribly, heart stoppingly aware of what he’s about to find. 

A flight booked under his name for next Monday from Paris to Tokyo International. First class and everything, because Ushijima never does anything by halves.

A hotel room reservation in the athlete block. 

There’s a string of numbers scribbled on the top of one of the pages and Tendou doesn’t have to check his phone to know it belongs to Wakatoshi. He still remembers it by heart, even after all these years. 

He sits in stunned silence for a long moment, staring blankly at the items spread out in front of him. 

“No.”

Shaking himself, Tendou scoops everything off his desk and dumps it unceremoniously into a drawer. 

“No,” he repeats, standing up from his desk and grabbing his white coat. He jams his arms through the sleeves and stomps out of his office and back towards the front of the store where they’ll soon be opening the front doors to today’s customers. 

“Absolutely! NOT!” he yells, startling Camille and almost ruining her careful arrangement of chocolate candies. She stares at him reproachfully and he slinks behind the counter, sullen but chastised. 

No way in hell is he going to take off to Tokyo just because Ushijima Wakatoshi somehow got his address and sent him an invitation. Satori doesn’t owe him a goddamn thing after what the ace had put him through, and he isn’t going to come running when he calls.

Not this time, not ever. 

Despite his determination to put it behind him, Tendou’s foul mood lasts for days after that.

He still manages to smile and charm his customers, handing out free samples to the children that come in with their parents and the occasional pretty girl, usually on the arm of her suddenly threatened boyfriend. 

You don’t need to be a master at understanding human behavior to know that jealous men tend to buy the most chocolate.

Waving at a departing customer, Tendou finds himself alone again in the shop. Mid afternoon is always when things slow down in Paris, with everyone finding their way somewhere to enjoy lunch, and Tendou wanders back to sit on the stool behind the counter so he can take advantage of the free time. He thinks about the lanyard hidden in his desk drawer, still unable to bring himself to throw it away.

He doesn’t understand why. The flight that had been booked left without him three days ago. What point is there in keeping all that stuff when he clearly has no intention of going?

Despite himself, he opens his phone and scrolls through the Olympics livestream app he definitely only downloaded to watch the football games, coming to a stop when he reaches the video for the ongoing Men’s Volleyball Japan v Italy game. Gun to his head, Tendou would still never admit that he’s been keeping track of the match all afternoon. 

They’re tied two sets each and are in the middle of the fifth and final one with Japan down by two points, and Tendou grimaces as Ushijima’s next spike runs right up against the Italian defense. 

The former Shiratorizawa Ace is playing like garbage, to be quite frank. And sure, Ushijima’s worst is still generally better than most people’s best, but that isn’t the point here. 

Ushijima Wakatoshi doesn’t suck at volleyball and yet he’s playing like he’s still in high school and that is something that even the Guess Monster cannot wrap his head around. 

He puts his phone face down and sits in silence for several long minutes, staring out the glass doors of his shop to the street beyond it. To the city that has become comfortable to him in its consistent familiarity. 

“Fuck it,” he says finally, standing up as his resolve starts to harden. 

He peels off his coat as he makes his way into the back of his shop, startling his poor assistant on her lunch break when he suddenly throws it at his office chair. 

“Cami, I’m gonna need you to leave you in charge of the shop for the next week or so. I’ll call Sasha and Hugo to let them know they’ll have to pick up some overtime this week to help out, okay?” he tells her, grabbing his sweatshirt and backpack off the hook on the wall.

She blinks mutely at him for what feels like an eternity before finally nodding, setting her yogurt down carefully on the corner of his desk.

“May I ask why?” she probes, one delicate blond eyebrow raised with curiosity. 

He grimaces, leaning over her to wrench open his desk drawer and grab the pile of paperwork and lanyard that he’d received. 

“I have some unfinished business I need to take care of in Japan,” he replies cryptically, pouting when she laughs at him. 

“You always try to sound so ominous but it’s hard to take you seriously when you look that excited.” 

Tendou sputters, shoving everything into his backpack and throwing it over his shoulder.

“I am _not_ excited,” he snaps, further incensed when she just laughs again. He storms out of his office in an indignant huff, pointedly ignoring her when she yells “Whatever you say, boss!” at his retreating back.

It only takes him twenty minutes to shower and pack a bag before he’s heading to the airport, determined now to give Ushijima Wakatoshi a long overdue piece of his mind. Then, finally he can move on with his life and stop pining after a future that had never been possible. 

Still, as Tendou stares out the window while the plane slowly taxis onto the runway in preparation for takeoff, he can’t help but wonder. 

Why is Ushijima reaching out to him now? Why not just text, or call? It couldn’t have been much harder to wrangle his new phone number out of someone than it would have been to get his address. In fact, it probably would have been much easier and far less expensive.

The lanyard looms over his head, tucked away in his backpack in the overhead compartment. 

Tendou tips his head against the wall of the airplane and closes his eyes. It’s almost 12 hours to Tokyo, and he needs to be as well rested as possible before confronting Ushijima. 

He doesn’t sleep a wink for the entire flight.

🏐🍫🏐🍫🏐🍫🏐🍫🏐🍫🏐

This is a stupid idea.

What had Tendou been thinking?

He sizes up the hotel door in front of him like it’s the final boss battle of a particularly difficult video game, hands shaking and eyes wide.

Did he really just fly all the way to Japan to yell at his high school crush, who he hasn’t spoken to in almost a decade, just because he played a shitty game of volleyball?

No, no this was a stupid idea and Tendou still has time to turn right the fuck around and get on the next plane back to Paris, where his comfortable life patiently awaits his return.

The door swings open just as he’s resolving to quit while he’s still ahead, revealing an absolutely enormous looking Japanese man wearing shorts and a t-shirt that leaves little to the imagination. It’s not the enormous Japanese man Tendou had been expecting though, and he flounders, taking a step back and away from the quizzical stranger.

“I’m sorry I must have the wrong room,” he clarifies, gripping the straps of his backpack so tight he can hear the fabric creaking. “I’ll just go-”

His breath catches in his throat when Ushijima comes up behind the other man, clad in an equally skimpy set of shorts and a tank top, leaving all five hundred million miles of tan, flawless skin on display for Tendou’s raking eyes. He sees the sweat beading in the hollow of his throat and resists the urge to lick it off him. 

“Tendou.”

Ushijima seems surprised to see him and a sudden, horrible clarity washes over Tendou as he flicks his gaze back towards the muscular man standing beside him in the doorway. He licks dry lips and then smirks, trying to play it cool as if his heart isn’t breaking into a thousand pieces all over again.

What a fool he was to come here. 

“Ahhh, congratulations, Ushijima-san. I have to say, I wouldn’t have guessed this was your type, but then you always did like them pretty,” he simpers, waving a hand at the two men. 

“Anyways, I’m off. I was just in town visiting friends and I thought I’d stop by to say hello. Good luck tomorrow in the game against Brazil, though. I’m sure you’ll do great with such a cutie to cheer you on.”

He tosses a wink at the flustered stranger and turns away, determined to get out of this with his pride intact. 

“Tendou, this is Sano-san, my personal trainer.”

Waving idly over his shoulder, Tendou keeps walking. Personal trainer or not, that doesn’t change anything. He was stupid to have come.

“Satori!”

Someone is gripping his upper arm and he spins around, prepared to lash out, only to find himself pinned between the wall and Ushijima’s considerable bulk. 

There’s only one thought in his mind as he stares up in shock at his former ace, lanyard suddenly heavy around his neck. 

_When did he get so much taller than me?_

“Tendou. Sano is my trainer and nothing more. He was helping me with some new stretches to prepare for tomorrow’s games, that was all.”

Ushijima’s baritone voice vibrates deep into Tendou’s core and it takes all his self control not to immediately collapse into him like a dying star. Carefully pushing the larger man away, Tendou averts his gaze, studying the geometric patterns in the hotel carpeting.

“Doesn’t matter to me either way,” he lies, running a hand through his short cropped hair to hide how much their sudden proximity is affecting him. They’re so close he can smell the spice of Ushijima’s aftershave and practically taste the salt of his sweat. 

Ushijima stares silently at him, eyes flitting briefly to the lanyard on Tendou’s chest, but doesn’t call him on his bluff, though he notices that the ace’s hands are curled into fists at his sides as if he’s physically restraining himself from touching Tendou. 

“Would you… like to grab a cup of coffee with me?” the brunette finally asks, startling Tendou out of his feverish memorization of all the new freckles Ushijima has accumulated on what parts of his shoulders and chest are currently visible.

“Only if you shower and change first,” he snickers, and is Ushijima actually turning a little pink there or is it just his imagination playing tricks on him? “As much as I’m sure the grandmas would enjoy the sight, it might be a little improper to go out just wearing that.” 

Ushijima looks down at himself and seems to realize what he’s wearing for the first time since Tendou appeared on his doorstep. Thankfully Tendou doesn’t see the personal trainer anymore and figures he must have made himself scarce after such a horrifically awkward confrontation. 

Intense olive eyes pin him down and he resists the urge to squirm.

“You’ll stay until I’m done?”

Tendou rolls his eyes in a dramatic show of disinterest, waving his hand at the wing spiker. 

“Sure, sure. I’ll meet you in the lobby I guess, just hurry up,” he chides, turning towards the elevator bank. He pushes the down arrow and then glances over his shoulder, seeing Ushijima still standing there, staring at Tendou.

The redhead drops his shoulders in a sigh, eyes hooded as he looks back at the taller man.

“Don’t keep me waiting, Wakatoshi-kun. Don’t you think I’ve waited long enough?” 

Ushijima stiffens and whirls around, walking to his hotel room with quick, purposeful strides. The elevator doors ding and it takes all of Tendou’s willpower to step onto it when his heart is pushing him to chase after his former ace. 

True to his word, Ushijima doesn’t take long to shower and change, and Tendou’s mouth goes dry when he sees him stepping off the elevator, hair still damp and wearing a sinfully tight pair of jeans. The simple red polo shirt bearing the Japan team logo is practically crying at the seams and honestly? Tendou can sympathize. 

He looks relieved to see Tendou is still here and Tendou…

Well he doesn’t know what to think about that. 

So he doesn’t, pushing all notions that Ushijima is happy to see him right out the door where they belong and locking it behind them for good measure.

“Where to then, oh captain my captain?” he teases, jamming his hands in his pockets to prevent himself from automatically reaching out and adjusting the lopsided collar of Ushijima’s shirt. This is the most haphazard Tendou has ever seen him, as if he’d just thrown on the first clean clothes he found.

The walk to the cafe is silent and painfully awkward, Tendou admiring the buildings around them that have all been erected for the sake of the Olympic games. The silence persists even as they order their drinks and sit down in the small cafe a little outside the main campus of the Olympic Village, staring wordlessly at one another as the seconds tick into minutes. 

Tendou fidgets in his seat, long fingers digging into his thigh to keep him from blurting out something stupid. The more time he spends with Wakatoshi, the more difficult it becomes to control himself. 

“So. You sent me an invitation,” he says finally, unable to bear the tension crackling between them. Ushijima looks up from his coffee and nods, setting the mug carefully down on the table in front of him. 

“I did. And you came,” he replies, voice steady like Tendou isn’t over here about to have a whole ass panic attack. 

The red head grimaces, dropping his gaze to his own coffee, sitting untouched since he got it. 

“Don’t get all cocky. I wasn’t gonna come but then I saw your appalling game against Italy and felt it was my patriotic duty as a proud citizen of Japan to come and kick some sense into your thick skull,” he snaps, perhaps a bit harsher than strictly necessary. 

Wakatoshi has this way of making Tendou feel vulnerable and exposed like no one else ever has before in his entire life. He used to love that about him but now? Now it just sets his teeth on edge. 

“Is that so.”

They lapse into silence again while Ushijima takes a sip of his coffee. Just when Tendou is about to give up and flee for his life, Ushijima finally speaks again. 

“What exactly about my performance did you find… ‘appalling’, then? Our opponents were very experienced but we still won that game,” Ushijima asks him and Tendou snorts, leaning back in his chair to glare derisively at his former teammate.

“Do you even realize who you’re talking to? I know your volleyball better than anyone on the planet, and that? That was rotting, nasty, smelly garbage. You should have wiped the floor with them but you didn’t and I wanna know why,” he demands, folding his arms across his chest. Ushijima blinks, hands flat against the table as he visibly considers his answer.

“I guess I was upset and it made me distracted,” he finally ventures, catching Tendou so off guard that he doesn’t even think before responding. 

“Upset about what? And since when does the infamous Ushijima Wakatoshi let himself get distracted by something as worthless as _feelings_ during a volleyball game?” he hisses and every inch of his body is screaming red alert. 

Ushijima cocks his head at him and the utter fondness that suddenly fills his expression sends a chill up Tendou’s spine. 

“Since you.” 

His voice is flat and honest, leaving no room for argument even if Tendou could unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth in that moment.

“I was upset because you weren’t there. I held out hope you might accept my invitation even though Sakusa-san said it was foolish, but then you weren’t there and I feared he may have been right after all.” 

Tendou’s heart is slamming against his rib cage, so loud that the entire restaurant must be able to hear it by now. Out of all the things he guessed might come out of Ushijima’s mouth, this… this ain’t it. 

“Sato-”

“This was a mistake,” he interrupts him, standing up so hard that his chair scrapes loudly against the wood floor. “I shouldn’t have come.”

He grabs his backpack and high tails it out of there. If he runs out to the main road he can hail a cab and then he can be on the next plane back to Paris. 

Tendou only makes it about a hundred yards however before the more athletic Ushijima catches up, forced to a stop by a strong hand wrapping around his skinny wrist. 

“Satori!” 

Has he ever heard Ushijima ever say his name like that? Desperately, achingly, as if he doesn’t know what else to do.

“Satori, I lov-”

Tendou wrenches his hand away, chest heaving as he pants for breath from his impromptu sprint from the cafe. 

“No! Don’t you dare, Ushijima Wakatoshi!” he spits, wrapping his arms protectively around himself. Why did he come here? 

“You don’t get to say that to me after what you did at graduation.” 

Ushijima blanches and Tendou huffs out a laugh, though the victory feels hollow and cold. 

“That’s right. I saw you with Oikawa-chan that day. But I shouldn’t be surprised, right? I was only ever a substitute for what you actually wanted.”

He knows he’s being mean but now he can’t stop. Nine years of bitter loneliness and self loathing are finally coming out after being locked away for so long. 

“You looked me in the eye and promised me forever but you were _his_ that whole time.”

Tendou sneers at the brunette, ignoring the growing nausea in the pit of his stomach. 

Ushijima for his part looks properly chastised, though there’s a growing tension between his brows that Tendou doesn’t know how to parse.

“None of that is true, Tendou. If you would just let me explain myself,” he begins, leaning forward.

Taking a step away from him, Tendou glares at him, mouth screwed up in a miserable scowl.

“I don’t want to hear it, Ushijima. You’ve had almost a decade to tell me the truth and you haven’t,” he grumbles, shaking his head. 

“This was a stupid idea and I’m not sure why I came. I’m going home.”

Satori turns to leave, only to be stopped by Ushijima’s hand on his wrist once more, spinning him back around to face the taller man. There’s only a split second for him to panic before he’s suddenly being pulled into a tight embrace, crushed to Ushijima’s chest.

All of his instincts are screaming at him to punch the other man and run but Tendou can’t comprehend them, his normally overactive mind suddenly completely and utterly blank. 

“You never gave me a chance. You ran away to France without a word and cut off any way I had of communicating with you,” Ushijima whispers fiercely in Tendou’s ear and the redhead feels a hot prickle starting at the back of his throat. 

_Don’t you dare, Tendou Satori. Don’t you dare start fucking crying,_ he warns his traitorous eyeballs, curling his fingers into the fabric of Ushijima’s shirt. He’s wasted too many tears on this boy already.

“I don’t care,” he hisses, and the lie sounds hollow even to himself. “Let me go, Ushijima.” 

The arms only tighten around him and there’s a face pressed against his own, cheek to cheek despite the height difference between them. 

“I won’t,” Ushijima sighs, and Tendou pushes against his chest, albeit without much conviction. 

“I won’t,” he repeats, more firmly this time. “I won’t let you go a second time, Satori.” 

Tendou growls, punching him in the stomach with a little more force and Jesus it’s like hitting a cement wall. 

“Fine I won’t leave, are you happy now?” he finally concedes, and he tells himself he’s only saying that to get Ushijima to release him. 

It’s not very believable. 

Still, the larger man loosens his grip and Tendou is able to take a step back, face flush with anger and embarrassment. Ushijima for his part looks almost passive, but there’s a noticeable tension around his mouth that doesn’t escape Tendou’s notice. 

“Just let me explain myself. Please. Just a chance to prove how much you mean to me. Satori, I-”

Tendou cuts him off with a derisive huff, shaking his head. Slow like honey, a smirk spreads over his lips and he considers the man in front of him with narrowed eyes. 

“You don’t have the right to speak to me so casually anymore, Ushiwaka-kun,” he simpers, jutting his chin out in challenge. “You have to earn it.”

Ushijima blinks, clearly caught off guard. Point one to Team Tendou, thank you very much. 

“How can I do that then?” he murmurs, and Tendou can see the way his eyes harden. He considers this, tapping his finger idly to his mouth.

“How about… you win your team that gold medal and I’ll _consider_ hearing you out,” he declares, shivering when Ushijima’s back straightens at his words. 

He can practically taste the electricity in the air between them and for the first time in a very, very long time, he feels that thrill he used to only ever experience during his years playing volleyball by Ushijima’s side. 

“Deal.”

The word is heavy and Tendou smirks, eyes hooded as he considers the suddenly re-energized man before him. Maybe he should send the Japan National Team a bill. 

The walk back to the hotel is just as silent as their earlier journey, but no longer with that same stiff, uncomfortable feeling that had hung between them prior. They traverse the distance much faster this time and Tendou lets out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding when he’s finally alone again, safe in the quiet emptiness of his hotel room.

He spies the door that connects his space to Ushijima in the adjoining suite and clicks the lock with perhaps more force than absolutely necessary, just to make sure the other man heard it. 

Japan hasn’t taken the gold for Men’s Volleyball in decades and Tendou feels reasonably assured that this year won’t be any different. He’ll be able to return home in no time and finally get back to his quiet, Ushijima-less life. 

That is most definitely what he wants, so... why does it make him feel so sad?

🏐🍫🏐🍫🏐🍫🏐🍫🏐🍫🏐

Tendou had almost forgotten how scary it is watching Ushijima play from up close.

Sitting in the VIP section reserved for those with special lanyard passes like his own, he feels wildly out of place. Spouses and children of various athletes crowd the stands around him, as well as scouts and other officials representing other countries, looking for the next big star to recruit. 

Well, thanks to Tendou’s goading, Ushijima is certainly back on track to make a huge impression. The Brazillian team puts up a valiant fight as the reigning gold medalists and current favorites to take it all again this year, but nothing can stop Wakatoshi when he’s playing this good. 

Japan claims another point as Ushijima slams a blurry spike down into the faces of the stunned opposition. 

“That Ushijima is a goddamn monster,” someone beside him says to their counterpart. She’s speaking English, but Tendou hadn’t gotten into a prestigious school like Shiratorizawa Academy on his good looks alone. He’s also picked up French quite quickly in his years living in Paris. 

“It’s like he has a canon strapped to his back. Brazil might actually be in trouble,” her companion agrees, and Tendou can’t help but smirk. 

He wonders if these are the same kinds of conversations people used to have about the brunette back when they played together in high school. Even then, Ushijima had been an absolute force of brute strength to be reckoned with.

It’s interesting to see it play out from a spectator’s point of view for once. 

Japan takes the first set, then the second. 

Brazil rallies in the third set and manages to snatch a very narrow victory from an aggressive stalemate, and Tendou watches as they switch sides to start the fourth set. Tendou expects there likely won’t be a fifth.

He should probably be more upset about that to be honest. Brazil, as the reigning champs, had the best shot at stopping Japan’s ascension in its tracks, and yet even then can’t do much against the unstoppable force that is Ushijima. 

Opening the app, Tendou scrolls down to check the other bracket. Whoever won the other game would be facing Japan in the final match for the gold. 

“Argentina?” he says out loud, taken by surprise. They’ve never gotten higher than a bronze medal before, and yet here they are in the final round after crushing the United States team 3 to 0. 

They must have some fresh blood on the team to suddenly surge ahead on the world stage like this.

Before he can think to look up their roster, the Japan team sinks a final shot against Brazil and finishes up the set in a stunning four point lead. 

Tendou feels a thrill run up his spine as the crowd roars around him and Ushijima turns around, their eyes meeting. The brunette wordlessly points at Tendou, then holds up a single finger. 

One more game, he’s telling him. 

Tendou flips him off but it’s not much of a victory when Ushijima actually _laughs_ at him and turns away.

 _Fuck that smug son of a bitch and his whole damn team of volleyball freaks,_ he sulks, sinking into his seat to wait while the rest of the crowd starts to file out of the arena. He’d promised Ushijima this morning that he would wait until they were done with their cool down stretches even though it would be sweet, sweet revenge if he just takes off before he comes out. 

Despite his best efforts he will admit he is… kind of having fun today. He’d eaten breakfast with the rest of Ushijima’s current team, and it was nice to get to see some familiar faces he recognizes from his high school days. Ushijima had shown him around the venue after that, then left Tendou in his seat so he could go warm up before the game.

The whole thing felt pleasantly domestic and Tendou has to remind himself that all of this is just temporary. 

In a couple of days this will all be over and he’ll be on the next flight back to France, where he belongs.

His traitorous heart skips a beat when Ushijima reemerges from the locker room, dressed in his civilian clothes and freshly showered. He looks so good all the time and it should literally be _illegal._

“I wanna go watch the France and Mexico football game,” he grumps when Ushijima finally meets him, shoving his hands into the pocket of his hoodie. He refuses to be in a good mood when Ushijima is that flush with victory and feels the need to knock him back down a few pegs. 

Ushijima blinks, clearly surprised by the request.

“I should be able to get us in,” he replies slowly, sizing Tendou up. “The athletes are generally allowed to attend any of the other events.”

There’s something wicked in his eyes that makes Tendou hesitate, but he’s never known Ushijima to be other than blunt and straightforward. He can’t imagine that’s changed much since high school. 

So when they run up against a security guard at the entrance to the football stadium and Ushijima introduces him as his husband, it’s honestly the last thing the “Guess Monster of Shiratorizawa Academy” ever sees coming. It’s a miracle that he doesn’t blow their cover right on the spot when Ushijima laces their fingers together and offers the skeptical guard a winning smile. 

Tendou can see the doubt in the man’s face when he gives them both a once over, and he knows exactly what he’s seeing.

A scrawny redhead with an overgrown buzz cut and wide, reddish-brown eyes on the arm of a literal ten like Ushijima? He’d be second guessing this too if he were in his shoes. 

In all respects he has no business being with someone like Wakatoshi and yet here he is, and all because Ushijima has done everything in his power to get him to Japan and keep him there. He sneers back at the guard, daring him to make a comment. 

Wisely, the guard backs down and allows them through, and the second the doors shut behind them he yanks his hand away from Ushijima’s as if it’s been burned. 

“You could have warned me first,” he hisses, stumping down the stairs of the arena and towards the roped off section near the field. Ushijima doesn’t say anything but Tendou can hear his small chuckle, and that just incenses him even further.

Still-

He has to admit, there are certainly some perks to this weird arrangement of theirs as he settles down in a seat only a few rows away from the French goal. Europeans are weirdly intense about football and Tendou will admit, he’s gotten a little sucked into the enthusiasm of his employees on more than one occasion when he allows them to watch the games on the small television he has behind the counter. 

The French team hasn’t placed in the top four since before Satori was born, but he finds himself cheering for them nevertheless even as they get pummeled by the Mexican team. 

At some point Ushijima manifests a pretzel and two soft drinks and Tendou takes one of the sodas eagerly, sighing when the sweet liquid washes down his sore throat. He catches Ushijima watching him again and tenses, unsure what to make of it.

“What?” he finally demands, unable to bear the tension. The corner of Ushijima’s mouth twitches as if he’s trying not to smile, offering the pretzel to Tendou. It isn’t until Tendou’s foolishly thrown caution to the wind and taken a bite that he speaks, clearly taking advantage of the fact that Tendou’s mouth is full.

“You’re cute when you’re excited.” 

Tendou chokes, turning away so he can hide his red face and cough into his hands. 

“You can’t just say stuff like that,” he complains, shoving the straw back into his mouth and taking a few vengeful sips. 

_Two can play that game._

He “accidentally” spills a bit of soda around the straw and it drips down his chin, landing in small splatters across his fingers. Refusing to look at Ushijima, he raises his hand to his mouth and licks away the sticky liquid, making sure to be a little extra thorough. 

Tendou doesn’t have to see Wakatoshi to know he’s drilling a hole through the side of his head right about now.

“Still got a thing for hands I see, Wakatoshi-kun?” he hums idly, planting his elbow on the arm rest beside him so he prop his head up, smirking sideways at the other man. 

The wild intensity in those olive green eyes almost takes his breath away. 

Tendou forces himself back to the game, barely remembering who is even playing anymore.

He’s engaged in an extremely dangerous contest of wills and if he’s not careful he’s going to find himself caving to the other man far before the war is won. Even after all these years his body craves Ushijima, curving inexorably towards him like a flower towards the sun, not knowing why it does so but understanding that it’s necessary for life. 

How embarrassing. 

There’s a finger touching his own suddenly and he almost jumps right out of his seat. He dares a glance down and finds Ushijima’s arm is next to his on their shared arm rest, one thick pinky so gingerly laid on top of his own slender one he hardly believes it can be an accident.

He returns to the game but does not move his hand away, which Ushijima takes for an encouragement to push a little further. Tendou doesn’t absorb what’s happening on the field for even a second as familiar digits carefully slide closer and closer until Ushijima’s hand is covering Tendou’s entirely.

Heart hammering in his chest, Tendou dares to slowly, so very slowly turn his hand over and when they’re finally palm to palm he swears the world ceases to exist. And when Ushijima knits their fingers together? Tendou’s heart stops beating.

Mexico scores a goal and the crowd leaps to their feet around them, but Tendou stays in his seat with Ushijima and, perhaps most surprising to himself, allows the quiet embrace to last until the end of the game.

They remain that way even as the crowd starts to disperse. Tendou is pretty sure France lost the match and he realizes he should be disappointed but honestly?

He just feels a deep, settled calm that he’s only ever experienced around Wakatoshi.

“Come to dinner with me,” Ushijima murmurs, and Tendou dares to look at him for the first time in what feels like hours. His expression is so soft it makes Tendou’s chest ache.

When was the last time someone looked at him with such affection?

“Not if Boku-chan is going to be there,” he responds dazedly. “He stole the last orange this morning and I still haven’t forgiven him.”

Ushijima huffs and the sound goes straight to the pit of Tendou’s stomach, making him squirm in his metal stadium seat. 

“No, I mean just you and me. I got coach’s permission to take you somewhere off site.”

Tendou bites the inside of his cheek until he tastes the bitter tang of blood, trying to get his heart rate back under control. How is it Ushijima can bring down his walls with only a few soft spoken sentences? 

They’ve protected him against everything in life, from the bullies who tormented him his entire childhood, to the mother that made it clear to him each and every day that she never wanted a freak like him for a son. If Tendou doesn’t let anyone get too close then he can’t get hurt. It’s a boring story, one that’s been told a thousand times over.

And yet, Ushijima waltzes right past his barriers as if he can’t even feel them every single time. 

“Are you asking me out on a date, Wakatoshi-kun?” he teases, dry mouthed as he carefully extricates his hand from Ushijima’s. There are fingers brushing along his jaw and Satori looks up reflexively, once again finding himself pinned like an insect beneath Ushijima’s heavy gaze.

“Yes, I am.” 

Tendou stares back at him with heavy lidded eyes, feeling like his chest is filling up with water. Breathing is suddenly impossible and the air seems to heat up around them, becoming sticky and heavy inside his lungs.

“Okay,” he murmurs finally, tensing when Ushijima starts to lean in. His hand shoots up to cover the wing spiker’s mouth just before he makes contact and he carefully pushes him back, this time meeting his stare with equal intensity.

“Not yet, Wakatoshi. You still have one more game you gotta win first.” 

A muscle Ushijima’s jaw tics but he doesn’t make a move to kiss Tendou again so Tendou withdraws his hand, only to be stopped by the brunette grabbing his wrist. 

“Until tomorrow then,” he growls in a voice so heavy with promise that it sends a bolt of heat to bloom in the pit of Tendou’s belly. Ushijima turns to press a kiss to the sensitive palm of Tendou’s hand then finally releases him, standing up and gathering their trash like he hasn’t just obliterated any sense of self Tendou had known before now. 

Tendou’s legs have absolutely turned to jelly but he manages to get on his feet anyways, feeling the flush that’s spreading across his face. Once again he’s caught himself a step behind the other man and it is absolutely _infuriating._

He’s Tendou Satori, the guess monster, the freak, the unstoppable terror of Shiratorizawa, and now an up and coming chocolatier with his own business in the food capital of the world. He should be able to control himself. 

There’s silence again as they wait for a cab outside the venue and Tendou takes the opportunity to catch his breath. The hand that had been clasped in Ushijima’s through most of the game still tingles, shoved deep into the pocket of Tendou’s sweatshirt.

The restaurant Ushijima takes him to is surprisingly low key, with a dim, pub-like setting and wooden sections separating the booths that give a semblance of privacy. It’s still packed, considering the city is overflowing with tourists and athletes attending the Olympics, but Tendou finds himself strangely comforted by the clamor and low lighting. 

It’s only after they’ve been seated in a corner booth that Tendou realizes Ushijima chose this place _because_ he knew Tendou would like it.

He supposes he should be annoyed that Ushijima still knows him so well but if he’s honest with himself? Really, truly, brutally honest with himself.

It makes him just the tiniest bit happy. 

They don’t speak again until the waitress drops off their food, but the quiet between them feels peaceful rather than awkward, and Tendou is content to let it drag out for once. He knows there’s a reason Ushijima has brought him here, and the anxiety about what he might have to say is tying Satori’s stomach up into knots. 

Back when he was growing up, Tendou hated silence. He’d fill the air between him and other people with a steady stream of chatter about anything that came to mind. This drives most normal people away inevitably, and from an early age Tendou learned that he should try harder to be less annoying.

Less grating.

Less loud.

Just… less. 

Ushijima had always been different though. He’d been more than content to let Tendou talk his ear off, preferring to listen attentively to his rants about volleyball, their classwork, the latest Shonen Jump comic, their teammates and their exploits, on and on until Tendou ran out of steam. 

But now Tendou finds himself at a loss for words, unsure of what there even is to discuss. 

Everything, for starters. And nothing at the exact same time.

“I want to talk to you about what you saw at graduation.”

Tendou tenses, mouth twitching into a nervous grimace as he averts his gaze. Ah, yes.

That.

“Please look at me, Tendou.”

He forces himself to look back up to Ushijima, his expression grim. Whatever he says doesn’t matter because Tendou knows what he saw. He can still taste the bitter betrayal at the back of his throat, cloying and suffocating. 

“Whatever explanation I try to give will just sound like an excuse. All I can say is that it wasn’t intentional and that we both regretted it the instant it happened,” Ushijima murmurs, and Tendou inspects his insanely long eyelashes in lieu of making direct eye contact. He’s afraid if he speaks right now he might actually start yelling. 

“It was an impulsive, careless act. He came to our graduation to tell me he was going to beat me on the world stage and… I’ll admit. We both got swept up in the moment.”

Tendou feels sick and the smell of his meal is further nauseating. He doesn’t want to hear this. There’s a reason why he disappeared after catching him in the act. It’s one thing to know he doesn’t hold a candle to Oikawa Tooru, but hearing it from Ushijima’s mouth is so much worse.

“He punched me in the face and I haven’t seen him since. Last I heard he’s off in South America somewhere playing volleyball. I think he even got married to his former ace. The black haired one with the angry eyes.”

Sinking back in his chair, Tendou drops his gaze to stare at the table in front of him.

“Were you ever gonna tell me, if I had stayed?” he asks in a soft murmur. He absently starts shredding the napkin on his lap and wonders if he even wants to know the answer. 

Ushijima hums softly, fingers tracing lines in the condensation on his drink cup. 

“There were never any secrets between us and I didn’t want to be the one that broke that,” he replies, sounding so sincere that Tendou aches to believe him. 

“I was going to tell you the truth the first chance I got, but then you were gone, and I couldn’t find you. None of our friends would tell me where you went. Your Mom slammed the door in my face.”

Tendou frowns, then dares to glance back up at the dark haired man. 

“You looked for me?” he asks, sounding baffled even to his own ears. “You asked my _Mom?_ ”

Ushijima looks equally confused, but for an entirely different reason than Tendou.

“I never stopped looking, Tendou. I kept searching until I finally found you.” 

Tendou swallows dryly, brows furrowing.

“And how exactly _did_ you do that?” 

Ushijima shrugs a single shoulder but Tendou catches the flush rising in his cheeks even in the dim lighting of the restaurant. 

“I was visiting some of our old teammates last year and Semi had a box of chocolates with your name on them in his living room,” he admits, and Tendou is stunned by the admission. He supposes he owes Goshiki a silent apology for fingering him as the weak link when it was actually Semi of all people who betrayed him. See if he gets another box of chocolates ever again.

“I knew it had to be you, considering how much you always liked sweets.”

And there it is. The sweet, sticky spread of warmth through Tendou’s entire body. 

He’s embarrassed when he feels the first hot tear slide down his cheek and he angrily swipes it away with his sweatshirt sleeve.

Ushijima’s reaching across the table to capture both of his hands, his gaze full of quiet intent. 

“I’m sorry that I kissed Oikawa. It was stupid and I’ve spent the last nine years of my life hating myself for letting it happen,” he whispers, leaning forward so he can press his lips to Tendou’s knuckles. “And I’m sorry it took me so long to say that to you.”

The tears fall in earnest now and Tendou flinches when Ushijima cradles his jaw in one of his stupidly broad hands, gingerly brushing away the dampness from his flushed cheeks. 

“You don’t have to forgive me, but I wanted you to know that not a single moment has gone by since graduation where I haven’t regretted losing you.” 

Tendou extricates himself from Ushijima and dries his face on the remains of his napkin, taking a few deep, steadying breaths to calm himself. Ushijima waits patiently, expression unreadable and carefully composed. 

Finally, when he feels a little less wobbly, Tendou dares to meet that heavy hazel stare with his own, red rimmed and tired as it is. 

“How can you say you’ve lost me when I’m still right here, Wakatoshi?”

Ushijima stiffens in his seat, back straightening and shoulders squaring off. He looks like he’s just been told he’s one spike away from winning the big game and Tendou has to fight down the watery laugh he feels bubbling up in his chest. 

They end up taking their meals back in little cardboard boxes, having not been much in the mood to remain in the increasingly rambunctious restaurant. The cab ride back to the hotel is peaceful, and Tendou finds himself drifting off against the solid bulk that is Ushijima seated beside him. The time difference hasn’t been kind to him and, combined with the stress of what he’s currently embroiled in, meant the previous night had been rather restless. 

“We’re here, Tendou,” Ushijima murmurs, shaking him awake, and Tendou groans before reluctantly sliding out of the cab after him. He almost stumbles stepping onto the sidewalk, struggling to keep his sore eyes open. 

Then Ushijima is bundling him against his side and suddenly Tendou is wide, wide awake. A broad arm settles around his slender waist, guiding him through the oscillating door of the hotel and towards the elevator banks at the opposite end of the lobby.

“Can’t keep your hands off me today, huh?” he attempts to tease, but it fizzles out when Ushijima fixes him with his trademark heavy stare. Tendou is relieved when the elevator doors slide open on their floor, allowing himself to be led down the hall to where their hotel rooms are. 

He doesn’t know what to say when they finally arrive, clutching his takeout box tightly to hide the way his fingers tremble oh so slightly. 

Ushijima looks at him like he wants to kiss him and Tendou is relieved when he pulls away instead, hand lingering just for a moment on the angular dip of his narrow waist. If Ushijima kissed him right now, when he still feels so raw and vulnerable from their talk at dinner, he’s absolutely positive that neither of them would be able to stop.

“Tomorrow, then,” he murmurs, grinning slightly when that seems to spark a reaction from the wing spiker. 

“Tomorrow,” Ushijima agrees, firm and resolute as he’s ever sounded. “Tomorrow I’ll win you the gold.” 

Tendou chuckles dryly, quirking a single eyebrow at him.

“Don’t you mean you’ll win the gold for Japan?” he needles, settling back into silence when Ushijima doesn’t react. The expression on his face says plenty though. 

_I said what I said,_ it tells Tendou, and wow does he need to get some sleep.

“Goodnight, Wakatoshi-kun.” 

The locking mechanism on his door beeps, allowing Tendou to pull it open. The last thing he hears before it swings shut is a soft “sleep well, Satori” and, well.

If he’s gonna say it in that tone of voice then Tendou supposes he’ll allow it just this once.

🏐🍫🏐🍫🏐🍫🏐🍫🏐🍫🏐

Ushijima Wakatoshi is many things.

A fierce volleyball player, a dutiful son, and a loyal friend. He’s been called every name in the book by teammates and opposition alike.

Monster. Cannon. Miracle Boy. The Super Ace of Shiratorizawa. 

Nobody has ever in his life called him cowardly, and yet when he comes face to face with Oikawa Tooru for the first time in nine years on the world’s court during the final Olympics game, there’s a sudden chill in his body that he cannot shake. Their coach had shown them the stats. The Argentinian team obliterated their competition to make it to the finals against Japan, and yet it had never crossed Ushijima’s mind once that their new secret weapon might be his old rival. 

The team had watched the video of their previous game while Ushijima was out to dinner with Tendou. He’d read through the play by play provided by the team manager, but it had described the players simply by their initials and position on the team. 

OT, setter.

Oikawa Tooru.

At one time in his life, Ushijima admits he had been a little infatuated with the Aoba Johsai player. The crush turned into a begrudging respect for his skill on the volleyball court. 

Now he just sees someone standing in his way.

He made a promise to Satori to win the gold for him and damned if he’s going to break it when he’s so, so close. 

“Oikawa,” he says blankly, reaching out to shake his hand as the rest of his team does the same with the Argentinians. 

Oikawa smirks at him, one hand planted on his waist.

“What, no kiss for me this time, Ushiwaka-chan? I’m devastated,” he snickers, waggling his fingers at him. 

Ushijima’s eyebrows draw together and he stares down at the other man, feeling a seething anger starting to build beneath the surface of his skin. 

“I have no interest in putting any part of my body near yours ever again, Oikawa Tooru,” he responds coolly, darkly satisfied when that turns the smirk into a scowl. 

“That’s too bad because I’m about to destroy you and your pathetic team,” the setter snaps, whirling around to stalk away. 

“Don’t mind his mouth, Ushi-kun!” Bokuto nudges him in the side, trying to bolster Ushijima’s mood. “He’s always got something nasty to say but we’ll show him who rules the court here.”

Ushijima nods absently at him, eyes searching the stands until they alight on a familiar mess of bright red hair. At some point Tendou had obviously shaved it off, but it’s since started to grow back in thick, haphazard chunks. Nowhere near the length he’d had while they were in school together, but long enough to stick up cutely when he’s only just gotten out of bed in the morning. 

Tendou gives him a hard look and with one smooth movement sends him an aggressive thumbs down that Ushijima knows can only mean one thing.

_Kick his fucking ass._

Ushijima intends to.

Argentina prepares to serve and Ushijima settles onto the balls of his feet, readying himself for the fight of his life. 

His team is at the peak of their physical fitness. They’ve trained hard for this, harder than they’ve ever prepared for anything in their entire lives. This has been the dream for many of them since they were old enough to understand what a volleyball is. 

So when the final whistle blows signaling Argentina’s victory the blow is absolutely crushing. 

They hadn’t given up without a fight, pushing the match into the fifth set and deucing back and forth all the way into the 30s before Argentina finally scores two consecutive points on them, bringing the game to its inevitable, heartbreaking conclusion. 3 to 2, Argentina. 

Their coach attempts to be comforting, telling them that they’ll just need to work harder for next time. That there’s always 2024. 

The silver medal is still something to be proud of. 

Ushijima searches the crowd for Tendou and swallows thickly when he can’t locate him. His previously occupied seat is now empty. 

Heart pounding from more than just the physical strain of the game, Ushijima takes off the second the medals are presented, ignoring Bokuto attempting to pull him back so they can complete their cool down exercises. He doesn’t have time for that, he’s already wasted too much standing around for a useless silver medal. 

Thankful that he’d held onto the extra copy of Tendou’s hotel key, he bursts into the room with a rush of desperate hope, lungs spasming as they fight to drag air into them. He’s at the physical limit of his stamina and his cramping muscles make it known that he’s done. There’s no more left in him.

Still, none of that compares to the sudden wash of pain when he finds Tendou’s room is empty. His backpack is gone and the towels have been piled on the center of the bed, sheets pulled loose and bundled together. 

He’s gone. 

A startling numbness washes over him and he fumbles for his phone, only to discover he’s still wearing his uniform. 

Right. He’d taken off and left all his stuff behind at the venue. He’d gotten lucky with the keycard being in the pocket of his uniform jacket, grabbed from the bench before the medals were presented, but his phone is off and tucked into a side pocket of his duffel bag almost a mile away. 

Ushijima slowly stumbles towards the door connecting the two rooms, legs feeling like two lead weights attached to his body. He’d been so close.

So close to finally having everything he’s ever wanted, right at the end of his fingertips.

Closing the door behind him, Ushijima leans heavily against it, wondering how much it’ll cost for him to book a flight to Paris.

If he even _should_ buy a ticket to Paris. Tendou had made his expectations clear from day one, after all.

It’s Ushijima’s fault for not living up to his end of the deal. 

“Rough game, huh?” a voice asks him from somewhere by his bed, and Ushijima is too tired and too beleaguered to recognize who it is at first.

“The roughest,” he sighs back, burying his face in his hands. 

Then he pauses, heartbeat pulsing loudly in his ears. He drops his arms and stares at Tendou Satori sitting on the end of his bed with his phone in his hand, backpack tossed haphazardly next to Ushijima’s luggage. 

They stare at one another for several long, silent moments as Ushijima processes, not sure what to say. 

“But we lost,” is what finally comes out, harsh with exhaustion.

Tendou puts his phone down and shrugs, piercing red eyes that Ushijima is more than just a little in love with studying him intently.

“I guess I just realized it didn’t matter as much to me as I thought it did.”

Ushijima crosses the room in a flash and falls at Tendou’s feet, gripping onto the redhead’s knees with bruised and aching hands. The feeling of Tendou’s fingers sliding through his sweat soaked hair ranks pretty high on his list of personal religious experiences, and Ushijima lets his eyes drift shut, drinking in the scent of strawberry scented shampoo still lingering around him. 

“I love you,” Ushijima confesses, and this time Tendou doesn’t interrupt him. Nimble digits continue to stroke his hair, encouraging him to continue.

“I’ve been in love with you for years, and I’ve never stopped loving you in the time we’ve been apart. There’s never been anyone else that understood me the way you do, and there’s no one that’s ever made me feel so at peace with my own shortcomings.” 

Words spill out of him in a waterfall, hoarse and strained. His body screams at him for rest but he can’t rest.

Not now.

Not when Tendou is looking down at him so _tenderly._ As if Ushijima were some fragile, precious thing cradled in the palm of his hand.

“I love you too, Wakatoshi,” he sighs, combing Ushijima’s bangs back from his sticky forehead. 

“There’s never been anyone else. I guess I’ve always known you were the only one for me, and all the distance in the world couldn’t keep us apart forever.”

Tendou doesn’t stop him when he leans towards him this time, meeting him halfway for a kiss that doesn’t last nearly as long as Ushijima wants it to. A soft brush of lips, careful and slow. 

It’s not the passionate embrace that Ushijima had always fantasized about, but his trembling muscles don’t give him much wiggle room right now. Tendou huffs out a laugh and stands, wrapping his arms around Ushijima’s upper arms to help him get back onto his aching feet.

“Come on, you big buffalo. Let’s rinse you off first and I’ll help you go through your cool down routine,” he teases, and Ushijima lets himself be led towards the bathroom, tired legs clumsy and difficult to control.

Tendou sits him down on the toilet while he starts the shower and makes sure the temperature is comfortable before helping Ushijima peel off his sweat soaked uniform. 

“Y’know, this isn’t exactly what I pictured when I imagined our next time naked together,” Ushijima admits, avoiding Tendou’s sharp gaze when the other man kneels in front of him to untie his sneakers. 

Tendou titters, setting his shoes aside and peeling off his disgusting socks without batting an eyelash.

“So you’ve been picturing me naked, huh?”

Ushijima blinks, willing himself to stay calm as Tendou starts removing his own clothing and reveals miles of pale, flawless skin that he aches to get his hands on. 

“Often, yes.”

That catches Tendou off guard and Ushijima is treated to the sight of that pretty pink blush spreading across his face and down to his chest, staining him in delightful hues. 

“Okay, okay. That’s enough of that. I hardly doubt you have energy left in you for something strenuous right now, so no point in getting either of us all riled up,” he grumbles, helping Ushijima to his feet again and helping him into the shower.

It’s a tight squeeze getting them both into the narrow cubicle, but Ushijima isn’t complaining when that means Tendou has to press up alongside him to reach his hair. He wraps tired arms around him and sighs as Tendou melts into the embrace, his body warm and soft against Ushijima’s chest. 

Tendou is quiet while he washes the sweat and grime out of Ushijima’s hair, those long, sturdy fingers combing out tangles acquired during the heat of the game. They work their way down Ushijima’s back and patiently massage the tension from his aching muscles. 

Ushijima nudges his nose against Tendou’s cheek, capturing his mouth again for a much better kiss than the last one. Tendou allows him inside when he licks across the seam of his lips, and he can taste the cherry cola he must have been drinking during the game, still sweet on his tongue. 

“Satori,” he whispers, brushing their foreheads together. Tendou tips his head up and leaves a trail of soft kisses along the sharp line of his jaw, causing Ushijima’s grip on him to tighten by a fraction. 

“It’s okay, ‘Toshi,” the redhead soothes, stroking a calming line up and down the length of Ushijima’s spine. “I’m here.” 

Tendou cleans the rest of the sweat from his body as best as he can given their limited space, and when he steps out of the shower and away from Ushijima he isn’t prepared for how cold that makes him feel. He disappears back into the room and then comes back with a pair of sweatpants for both of them, setting them on the sink for now. 

“You just gonna stand there and look at me all day, Wakatoshi-kun?” Tendou chuckles, and all Ushijima can do is nod mutely, feeling the water drip off his body and onto the tile floor of the bathroom. Those wicked hands are back on him again, this time with a towel to pat him dry so he doesn’t catch a chill. 

Honestly the entire thing feels like a dream straight out of Ushijima’s wildest fantasies and it scares him how intensely he needs it to be real. 

Tendou is offering him the sweatpants and it takes a few clumsy tries but he finally manages to get them on, sighing when he’s being pushed to sit down on the toilet again. 

“Lemme dry your hair at least so you don’t drip all over the place,” he hums, dropping a dry towel on Ushijima’s head so he can scrub at the damp brown locks. Ushijima reaches up to grip onto Tendou’s waist for balance, feeling a little thrilled when this causes Tendou’s hands to stutter just a tiny bit in their task. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Ushijima Wakatoshi.”

Ushijima tips his head back, expression soft as he stares up at his former middle blocker. 

“I’ll try to be better behaved in the future,” he promises, only to immediately break it when he slips his hands a few inches lower on Tendou’s narrow hips. Tendou flushes red again and gives his cheek a vengeful pinch before soothing away the ache with a gentle brush of his lips. 

He’s feeling loose limbed and tired with happiness by the time they get down to actually doing his stretches. Tendou’s hands on his body are both familiar and exhilarating all at once, guiding him through the motions that will help him feel less sore the next day. Strong fingers dig deep into his thigh, pushing his knee upwards until it touches his chest, and he groans through the ache of his muscles fighting against the stretch. 

Ushijima can feel the semi Tendou is sporting beneath the loose fabric of his sweatpants and is relieved that he’s not the only one being affected by the heavily charged air hanging heavy between them. 

Still, he knows Tendou is right as he hauls the exhausted athlete to his feet, all but collapsing in on himself when he’s finally allowed to sink back into the forgiving mattress. Neither of them really have the energy for anything strenuous right now. 

He watches as Tendou disappears into the bathroom again, suddenly concerned that the other man plans to leave despite all the evidence that suggests he fully intends to stay. 

Ushijima Wakatoshi prides himself on being a rational, intelligent human being, but when it comes to Tendou Satori all of that calm collectedness just… vanishes, leaving him vulnerable and exposed. 

He doesn’t relax again until Tendou reemerges, hair fluffy and looking so incredibly, wonderfully soft. Ushijima doesn’t hesitate to reach out and pull him down the second he’s within reach, sighing when that lithe body is finally pressed up against his own once more. 

“I love you, Satori,” he whispers in his ear, delighting in the small shiver he feels wrack the smaller man. Broad hands spread against his bare chest, but this time they don’t push him away. 

“I love you too,” the redhead soothes, tipping his head back in a silent invitation that Ushijima is more than happy to take. 

They lie like that for what feels like hours, curved into one another’s orbit and kissing lazily. Ushijima’s jaw aches pleasantly and he only breaks away from Tendou so he can look at him, admiring the flush, puffy curve of his mouth. 

_He_ did that. He made Tendou that way. 

There’s a hand on his leg, light and teasing, and it drags a small groan from his chest when his tired body desperately tries to respond. Wicked fingers trace the waistband of his sweatpants and Ushijima grabs at his wrist to stop him, frowning when Tendou stares back at him, wide eyed and innocent.

“Something the matter, Wakatoshi-kun?” he asks with a small smirk. 

The blankets fly back as Ushijima surges upwards, kneeling over the shocked Tendou with one slender pale wrist still gripped tight in his own. He looms over the redhead, pinning him to the bed with the weight of his stare. 

Tendou’s turning red again, clearly taken aback by the sudden show of strength from Ushijima. 

“What? Didn’t see this coming, Satori?” he murmurs, trailing his free hand down the length of the chocolatier’s chest. Tendou’s breath hitches in his throat and his body arches upwards a bit, inviting him to touch and explore. 

That’s when the arm holding Ushijima upright gives up the ghost and he collapses on top of the other man with a sudden wheeze. 

Tendou bursts out laughing and Ushijima hides his face in the crook of his neck, furious that his body has betrayed him like this. A lifetime of religious diet and exercise to keep himself in peak physical condition and it just fails on him? When it matters most?

Absurd.

“It’s okay, Wakatoshi. I know you’re tired,” Tendou sighs against his temple, lips brushing against the pulse point. “You played the best game of your entire career today and you should rest.”

Ushijima grunts but lets himself be soothed, all but melting when those skillful fingers start petting through his hair. Comfortable silence stretches between them and Ushijima drifts, lulled into a semiconscious doze. Tendou is so warm beneath him, allowing the tired volleyball player to use him as a combination hot water bottle and pillow without a single complaint. 

Still, there’s an elephant in the room that continues to make itself known at the back of Ushijima’s mind. 

“I’m going to retire,” he murmurs finally, feeling Tendou’s body stiffen at his words. “I’ll come back to France with you.” 

Surprisingly strong hands are shoving him over onto his back and Ushijima is caught off guard when Tendo is suddenly sitting on top of him, red eyes almost glowing with the force of his anger.

“You will do nothing of the sort, Ushijima Wakatoshi,” Tendou snaps, sounding so positively furious that Ushijima would even think to suggest something so absolutely preposterous. 

“I’m not going to be responsible for taking volleyball away from you. You can’t put that on me.”

The conviction in his voice leaves Ushijima speechless, staring wide eyed up at the other man. 

“I care more about you than I do about volleyball,” he replies slowly, confused when Tendou just shakes his head at him. 

“I know you do, Wakatoshi. But you don’t have to quit doing what you love just to prove that to me.”

Oh. 

_Oh._

“But we’ll be apart again,” Ushijima murmurs, curling his fingers around Tendou’s knees. There isn’t a thing on the planet that he wouldn’t do to keep Satori by his side, and the intensity of his own feelings should absolutely terrify him. 

Instead all he can feel is a deep, settling calm. 

Tendou’s smile is a little sad but he curls himself down over Wakatoshi, pillowing his cheek on the wing spiker’s shoulder. 

“We’ve been apart for the last nine years and we did okay. We have the rest of our lives to be together, but for now? You’re meant to be playing volleyball, Wakatoshi. You don’t need to be a guess monster to know that much is a fact.” 

Ushijima doesn’t answer, staring mutely at the ceiling as he considers what Tendou is saying. He knows he’s right. He’s still young enough to have a few more years left in his volleyball career. Most professional volleyball players don’t retire until their 30s and Ushijima is only 26.

Tendou must sense his continued hesitance because he props himself up on his elbow to lean over Ushijima, face a few inches from the brunette’s.

“I’ll make you a deal,” the former middle blocker croons, and Ushijima finds himself suddenly focused on what he’s saying, staring intently back at hooded red eyes. 

“You can retire-”

Ushijima’s heart soars, and he surges forward to kiss Tendou only to be stopped by a single long finger pressed against the seam of his lips. 

“Let me finish, Wakatoshi. I’m not letting you off easy here,” the redhead chastises, pushing him back down onto the pillow.

“You can retire _WHEN_ , and only when, you can bring me a gold medal.”

He feels a fire ignite in the pit of his stomach and he furrows his brows at Tendou, still silenced by the digit on his mouth. 

“When you’ve finally stuffed the volleyball back into Oikawa’s simpering sweet face and are standing above him on the world stage. Once you’ve finally achieved all the goals you set for yourself back when we were kids and there is nothing left for you to do. _That_ is when you can retire, Ushijima Wakatoshi, and not a minute sooner.” 

Ushijima knows how much this must be hurting the other man. He can’t imagine Tendou wants to be apart again anymore than him, and yet here he is, making an enormous sacrifice.

He loves him so much that it’s almost unbearable.

“Understood,” he sighs, cupping his hand over the redhead’s. He presses gentle, reassuring kisses to sensitive fingertips, closing his eyes when Tendou lies himself back down against Wakatoshi’s chest. 

Either way he resolves to visit as much as humanly possible. There are gyms in France, and streets for him to still jog every morning so he can remain fit, even in the off season. After he retires, he can find a volleyball club in the area and continue to play on a casual level. 

Volleyball exists all over the planet. 

But nowhere else has Satori Tendou and Ushijima decides that maybe he doesn’t care that much about volleyball after all.

🏐🍫🏐🍫🏐🍫🏐🍫🏐🍫🏐

**Paris, Summer 2024**

“Cami-chan, can you go grab the caramel turtles for me from the fridge? The chocolate should be cool enough so it won’t melt if we put them out,” Tendou directs, fanning a hand in front of his face as he considers the chaos that is his chocolate shop. The crowds that have flooded his home for the Olympic Games all week have been both a blessing and a boon, keeping him and his team busy from sunrise to sunset every single day. 

His temporary hire, a soft spoken but hard working man named Gustav, bustles around with a broom, sweeping up the napkins that enthusiastic tourists have dropped like it's his one passion in life. Tendou thinks he’ll offer him a permanent position after the crowds have finally left the city.

The downside of all this business is that Tendou hasn’t had a chance to sneak away to watch any of the games himself, and the knowledge that his stone faced boyfriend is only a few miles away playing his heart out on the world stage is slowly draining him of his will to live. Still, it’s nice to see his life’s work being so thoroughly appreciated by people of all types. 

Stealing a glimpse at his watch, he thinks that the final Men’s Volleyball game must be over at this point. Before he can pull out his phone to check who won though, he hears the soft click of the shop doors opening behind him and heavy, familiar footfalls. 

And Tendou doesn’t have to look to know what’s happening. 

After all, he’d built his entire high school career off his ability to predict the actions of other people with unparalleled accuracy. He notices the wide eyes of his assistant as she stares at the gorgeous man down on one knee in the middle of their chocolate shop. Catches Gustav gaping open mouthed at the shiny Olympic gold medal clutched in one broad hand and a small, black velvet box outstretched towards Tendou in the other.

Tendou hums thoughtfully, his movements slow and deliberate as he turns around to look at his former ace. There’s complete silence in his shop now as everyone holds their breath, waiting to see what Tendou is about to say.

Ushijima’s hair is still damp from the quick shower he must have taken after the game, as if he couldn’t even wait for it to dry before rushing to Tendou’s shop. His olive green eyes are wide and hold an unfathomably deep, genuine affection and it fills Tendou up with so much _love_ he feels as if he could burst with it. 

Ushijima opens the ring box so Tendou can see the slim gold band nestled inside, simple and sweet just like the man kneeling before him. 

“Satori,” he murmurs softly, earnestly. A thousand words from anyone else could never fit the same amount of emotion that Ushijima always manages to put into those three syllables.

Tendou smiles and threads his fingers through the damp strands of Ushijima’s hair, thumb tracing the proud arch of his brow. He wants to spend the rest of his life staring at this beautiful, honest face and now?

He can.

“Welcome home, Wakatoshi-kun.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading my story. Sorry if either of them seemed OOC at any point, I'm still trying to get a feel for their voices. If you want to scream more about ushiten and my other volleyball sons, you can find me over on twitter @bokutowl12 ♡✧( ु•⌄• )
> 
> I did some research for this fic but I'm sure there are some wild inconsistencies if you have any moderate knowledge of the Olympics, so pls forgive me if you see glaring errors in this story. I just really wanted to make ushiten do the kissy kiss y'all.
> 
> “Sometimes you get so close to someone you end up on the other side of them." - Richard Siken, "Crush"


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